The Herald's Arrival
by See No Dum-Dums
Summary: The full tale of the Cetra prior to and during the arrival of JENOVA, as told by Ifalna to Prof. Gast. How the Ancients and the humans parted ways. How the Cetra strove to fight the calamity. ...and on the socalled goddess of Gaia, Minerva. ON HOLD.
1. Journals and Interviews

_A thing or two I learned about syllogism and logical reasoning:_

_If I own Final Fantasy 7 (and all related games/movies/stories), then Aeris wouldn't have died, Sephiroth and Rufus would have been playable characters, and the Cetra's history would be told in detail._

_But Aeris dies, Sephiroth and Rufus are NPCs, and none of the old Cetra characters appear as main characters._

_Therefore, I don't own Final Fantasy 7 (and all related games/movies/stories)._

* * *

**Professor Gast's Journal **

**Day 1**  
Arrived at Icicle Village. Currently in the inn. Summer fast approaching – but then, it wouldn't matter anyway: temperature still remains at -2 degrees centigrade, and summer would only bring about approximately 5 degrees.  
Hojo and Shinra are still looking for me. The JENOVA project – I can't stomach the direction Hojo took. Perhaps it _is_ for the "greater good" as he acclaims, but the child – Sephiroth they named him – was not given a choice. For the greater good, they all said.  
But – sacrificing one's happiness, one's right, for the greater good?  
This process, however, also works inversely in society. In Midgar, for instance: the common good is compromised for the benefit of an oligarchy… but it is the same oligarchy now that claims that one's being be experimented upon for the common good.  
Hah. This entire obsession with the Cetra…  
Woe to the day I found that JENOVA specimen!

**Day 4**  
Managed to mingle with the locals. Very friendly – they gave me a space to live in for a while. They also speak of a hot spring with curative powers in the middle of the snowy wastelands outside, among many other interesting tales. These would seem to be naught but fairytales told to children, if only the people are not convinced of their authenticity.

**Day 8**  
One of the locals invited me to tour the hot spring. Snowboarding. This being the most credible of the tales (perhaps a large Mako concentration gives the spring its curative powers) I decided to investigate the site. Who knows? I might even be able to procure samples and synthesize a tonic for the villagers.

**Day 9**  
Guide tells me I reached the outskirts. Must mark trail. -4 degrees. Guide says it's normal.  
I'll carry on.

**Day 10**  
Lost! The fog – can't see last marker.  
Cold. Temperature dropping steadily. Blizzard.  
Must find spring. It's too cold.

**Day 11  
**Cold. Too cold. My senses. Numb. -18 degrees.  
Must go on.

**Day 12  
**I am lost.

**Day 16**  
Woke up in a small but cozy house, fire crackling merrily. In that house lives a woman. She had long brown hair, green eyes. Nursed me back to health for 3 to 4 days, it seems. I don't know how. There was no sophisticated medical apparatus.  
Her name was Ifalna.  
People say that she's a Cetra. The last one living.  
Ridiculous.

**Day 18  
**So she _is _a Cetra? Interesting.  
At first, she wasn't too willing to set an interview with a Shinra scientist (such as I am), the company being unpopular for its using Mako energy, which – as theorists in Cosmo Canyon hold – denudes the planet's life source. However, I managed to convince her that what I'm doing is merely a freelance research about the Cetra.  
She agrees to a recorded interview tomorrow morning.

**

* * *

**

**The following takes place in Professor Gast's lodging the next day**  
**Year XXXX, Month XX, Day XX, 10:42 AM**

Gast: So, Ifalna, people say you are the last living Cetra. But, in the first place, what _is _a Cetra, precisely? What makes them different, from, say, Wutaians or Corelians?

Ifalna: The Cetra were a nomadic race who lived in the Planet more than 2000 years ago. They had the capability to hear the Planet's voice and… and… by modern-day conventions, use magic.

Gast: Hear the Planet's voice?

Ifalna: Yes, Professor. I can't explain it very well, but it's like having a conversation with the Planet, getting to know its joys, its pains…

Gast: So the Cetra can _hear_ and _speak with_ the Planet?

Ifalna: Yes, Professor.

Gast: And you _are_ a Cetra?

Ifalna: Yes.

Gast: I see. Just curious, though – about five years ago, our science team has managed to unearth a Cetra, which we have called JENOVA. Do you happen to know anything about this ancient Cetra?

Ifalna: ...!!!

Gast: Ifalna?! Is something the matter?

Ifalna: That… thing… you excavated… was NOT… a Cetra.

Gast: ...?! What do you mean?!

Ifalna: It was… _him_. The calamity from the sky. Heaven's dark harbinger.

Gast: I… still do not get you… Ifalna… shall we… carry on with this? You don't look… fine…

Ifalna: It's… alright, Professor… I… I can tell… the full tale…


	2. The Cetra's Exile

_The story of the Cetra, as told by Ifalna to Professor Gast:_

* * *

…

I am Eies. I am a Cetra. I am a pilgrim. I am an emissary.

I am _light_ in our old tongue. Cetra means _wanderer-of-earth_, a pilgrim. We are healers, restorers, preservers. We were sent into an expedition a long, long time ago.

…

It all began in Nolaia: the Peacehaven, our Mother Planet. It was a beautiful world of seas and cool blue waters and spiraling cones and shells of all colors, shapes and sizes. And there, in that beautiful world, dwelt a vast number of our kind: tall, upright, very much like what you are today. Yet our race was far more beautiful, far more knowledgeable, and far more powerful; our kind also had the ability to converse with the earth, with the wind, with the sea, with the stars, and with everything under or over them.

We were under only one society. We had no rulers. We had no empires. We had no nobles. We had no slaves. We were all equal.

We led happy lives.

But it all came crashing down 4000 years ago.

The Hardalo Mayi, the senseless War of the Magi, began. Terrible fury was unleashed by the warring factions. They set Power against Power, Force against Force, until the seas dried up, the blue waters turned red, the cones and the shells shattered, our race dwindled, our dreams broken, and the Mother Planet was on fire.

And, when all were ruined, my father, Agnur, whose name means _wisdom_, had a vision. He saw Nolaia, broken by war and evil, collapse at last. And yet a calm, soothing voice commanded him to build great ships, ships of such size and strength that thousands would be held safely inside. And, as a final order, the voice told him to search for Minwi-tera

Minwi-tera. A Promised Land wherein we can live in eternal peace and happiness.

And so father built the ships, the arks, as commanded. The arks were tall and graceful, and such Power was in them that they could navigate the skies and beyond. And as Nolaia burst in her dying flames, I and my kin and our followers embarked the arks and sailed away.

…

We began to search for Minwi-tera, the Promised Land. Yet we were scattered. We were no longer as numerous as we once were. We were a broken race.

Our kin were able to find new worlds. We began building havens on the new worlds: Eiesthar the Light-house, Dolieth the Harborage, and Centra the Wandering-haven were among of these new settlements. Some remained in those havens, yet most of us passed on, believing we have not yet found our final destination.

…

I remember. I was a child back then.

"Where are we going, Olwe?" I asked my father, addressing him respectfully.

"We are going far, far away, Ismiya," he answered, calling me sweet daughter. "We are searching for 'home'," he added.

"Home? But Nolaia is our home, Olwe." I began to cry.

"Nolaia is gone forever, my love," he replied. "Now we are Cetra. We are Exiles. So we shall wander. Yet we shall not forget the evil War, nor shall we repeat it again. We shall bring messages far and wide. We shall spread freedom, peace, hope, and healing. And then, perhaps, we shall see MInwi-tera, the Promised Land."

"I am scared, Olwe. I do not know what to do."

At that my father smiled. He raised my chin and wiped my tears away. "Crying does not befit your beautiful face, Ismiya," he spoke to me, laughing softly, caressing my white face, stroking my golden tresses. He then clasped a beautiful pendant around my neck, the ornament of which was a single snow-white orb.

"Do not be afraid, Eies. The time shall come when you'll know precisely what to do."


End file.
